Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(101)
He took a quick head count. All present and accounted for, including the Matelons. He asked Lady Heresford to hand out the masks. The children, especially, were smitten with the animal masks, arguing over who would get what. He noted that Harper chose a dragon mask, and her mother a badger.
“No pushing,” he said, feeling like a stand-in teacher at a grammar school. “There are enough for everyone. Does everyone have a mask? Good. Don’t put them on until we get upstairs. I don’t want anyone stumbling and cracking their head open, because I’ll have to clean up the blood.” I do enough of that as it is.
The lytlings seemed to find this hilarious. Their mothers, less so.
Granger seemed unmoored in this sea of women and children, as if they drained all of the swagger out of him, leaving the nastiness behind. “Tell them we’ll cut the whelplings’ throats if they make a scene,” he murmured to Destin.
“Good thinking,” Destin murmured back. “That’s guaranteed to put them in a party mood.”
Taking a step away from Granger, Destin addressed the hostages. “Now, just a word of caution before we go upstairs,” he said. “I know you’ve been put in an awkward situation. This might seem like an opportunity for a show of opposition—some kind of demonstration to embarrass the king in front of his guests. Trust me, it’s not. It will accomplish nothing, and it will damage Queen Marina, who stuck her neck out for you. Most importantly, it will put you at risk, since there’s no telling how Jarat will react. Does everyone understand?”
There followed a grudging mumble of agreement.
Destin took a deep breath. “Let’s go,” he said.
41
WALLFLOWER
It seemed to take forever to get the party started. Hal spent that time going over Lila’s orders in his head, worrying about all the things that could go wrong. Who was Barrowhill anyway? She looked like a Southern Islander, and maybe she was, because she swore like a sailor. Was she some minion of Karn’s? Had she been spying on the thanes when they’d met at Temple Church?
Karn must have a whole network of people to call upon. But how many of them could be trusted to go along with freeing the hostages?
Finally, the band started up in earnest, and Hal could hear various dignitaries being introduced as they entered the ballroom. When it sounded like the room was sufficiently full of people, he pulled on his mask and motioned to his brother to do the same. “Let’s go.”
They closed the door gently behind them and found their way to an opening in the drapery. Hal peered out, but flinched back when he saw somebody standing just outside, next to the punch bowl.
The man wore an Ardenine dress uniform and a red hawk mask. He had his back to them, but the general’s braid on his shoulders and the shape of him made him easily identifiable as General Marin Karn. He stood, glaring out at the room, arms folded, like a stump rooted to the floor.
Hal raised his hand to stop his brother, who was trying to slide past him. “It’s Karn Senior,” he hissed.
Robert peered out. “Poor Karn’s a wallflower,” he whispered.
“Shhh!” Hal knew his brother was trying to dispel the tension, but there was nothing humorous about Marin Karn.
What with the music and the announcements and all, Hal didn’t think they could be heard, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
King Jarat sat on a raised dais at the far end of the room, his mother and younger sister at his side. One by one, the loyal thanes and their ladies were introduced and walked the length of the room to pay their respects to the king. Botetort, Beauchamp, and Larue, each with his lady on his arm. And then the guests from the far reaches of the empire—the ambassador from Bruinswallow, the Thane of We’enhaven, the Lord Governor of Tamron, and the Lord of the Isles.
The walls were lined with blackbirds—no, King’s Guards—sleek in their dress uniforms. Intermingled with them were officers from the regular army. Their assignment tonight would be to dance with any lady in need of a partner. They were armed, though, and from their expressions and posture, they seemed to be expecting trouble.
To Hal’s relief, the king summoned Karn Senior to meet the military governor of Watergate, or some such. Once he walked away, Hal and Robert were free to slide out from behind the drapes. They joined the perimeter of social conscripts and waited.
The king really had spared no expense. The ceilings were covered with billows of silk that met in the middle. From that midpoint dangled a huge red hawk made of papier-maché—the kind that held prizes and candies. Masked servers walked around the room, offering smoked snails, quail eggs, and caviar, along with little biscuits filled with roast meat. Liquor was flowing at several bars. One entire wall was given to desserts.
On any other night, Hal would have taken advantage, given his long period of ascetic living in the north. But tonight his stomach was tied in knots, and he was in no hurry to chance these fancy foods.
It wasn’t long before there was a stir in the entryway, signaling new arrivals. There was Destin Karn, gliding across the dance floor to speak to the king, who smiled and nodded. Hal watched with interest as Karn Junior and Senior exchanged stiff nods, their body language as hostile as could be.
They really don’t like each other, Hal thought, recalling his conversation with Destin Karn at Newgate. I wonder why.